Of Brides and Monsters
by Zombiegirl197
Summary: "I even believe…that she put forward…oh! Not much! But a little, like a living bride…her forehead…and…and….I kissed her! I! I! And she did not die, as you can understand, my happiness was so great that I cried." Erik, The Phantom, in Gaston Leroux's The Phantom of the Opera Whitney x Jason Voorhees platonic


**This is pretty much always make analogies and references to fictional classic figures and stories to compare Jason Voorhees to. Because I'm a geek like that and honestly, the title itself pretty much gives it away to which works I made references to here. Also, if you look at the 2009 Friday the 13th movie in a cracky, musical and literary geek's perspective, it's like a more bloody, gritty version of Phantom of the Opera. XD That is, if you watched the actual live play and read the Gaston Leroux book (which is very different from the play as it is more platonic in a sense between Christine and Erik the Phantom vs. Romantic Christine and the Phantom) and then there's my personal favorite, Frankenstein. Seriously, I would geek out you about these works. I even referenced them in another angsty one-shot (with Hunchback of Notre Dame and Beauty and the Beast thrown in that one) though it's not really that obvious until towards the end. But anyways, this one is more Phantom heavy with a bit of Frankenstein in it.**

 **Of Brides and Monsters**

He did not feel attraction nor had romantic notions towards the girl in his hold. If ever questioned with it, the very thought would repulse the man. Considering the only sole reason the girl was still breathing was because of her resemblance to the ghostly memory of a mother who lost her head in both the metaphorical and literal sense, such a question would earn a person their throats crushed with a blade buried deep in their stomachs.

Still though, there was a hidden longing towards her. Perhaps it was a want for acceptance, or a desire of friendship with someone who held his mother's looks. It was lonely, living through all these years with no companionship and mother no longer here with him.

This girl was not his mother.

He knows that.

Yet he cannot help but yearn for her, to look at her features so alike Pamela Voorhees, and keep her here with him for all time. There was no desire, no need to experience such physical contact, her presence was more than enough for him. Through time, the girl became more than someone who resembled his mother. There were moments between them, brief, and over far too quickly for his liking. They were there though, a tickle in his stomach, a warmth in soul, that wanted more of these moments. Where she would stop screaming, stop crying, and give him a rare smile that made his heart flutter and fill the aching hole left behind with the absence of his mother; he believed she begun to care for him a little. Such a pretty thing when she curled up her lips and gave a genuine laugh when he managed to humor her. Make her forget where she was or whom she was with. He liked her like that. He wanted more of her smiles, selfishly wanting to keep them for himself and only himself. In what he believed was an actual growing affection between them, Jason made the fatal mistake of thinking she could actually come to stay here with him.

Which is why fury and anger came rearing their heads upon seeing her outside, unchained, making herself a liar in his eyes! Yet, he could not bear to harm her once catching her again, merely brought her to her cage again and locked her up to finish the gruesome job he assigned himself to have up above. He will deal with her later.

Except later resulted in her flight once again, this time with her brother freeing her, and fighting to escape the monster's grasp. Giving them chase, he attack and cornered the brother, slicing his thigh and choked him against the barn. A cut from his machete was too merciful to give, this boy was going to die slowly and painfully.

Then her call came.

A desperate, pleading call he had tried to ignore but couldn't. That was then shaking hands found his shoulder and he jerked his head to her, meeting wide, scared eyes that might as well have been a smack to his exposed face. A plea for mercy, to spare the boy in his grasp, and promised to stay. To be his companion in this bloodstained place he called home.

Conflicted, he growled, tightening his grip on the tender throat, then roughly dropped the boy. The coughing, desperate figure clawed at the ground for breath and croaked out a refusal that went unheard.

What happened next shocked the monstrous man to his very core.

He had learned over the months the girl's name. A name that set her apart from Pamela and one he refused to call her by in his mind, hoping to keep the two together. But in that time, in those precious seconds that took him off guard, Jason finally called the girl by her name once registering what she had done.

Whitney.

Whitney.

Whitney.

Whitney kissed the area where his lips would've been on the mask. Eyes closed, small form shivering before him. His green eyes widen in shock, shaking hands reaching over to her, grasping her waist, and heavy breaths puffing behind the mask. There was a warmth spreading across his chest, an emotion that spread throughout his being as she continued to press her lips to his mask. He could not feel it of course, but the simple act she displayed towards him was more than enough to deeply move him.

Then, she pulled away, glittering eyes staring up at him

Tears sprung up from his eyes as a terrible, wonderful, and heart wrenching ache came. Oh, what a feeling! What a wretched, beautiful feeling!

The girl, Whitney, watched the trembling, whimpering monster shed tears over her. The simple act of a whispered taste of what he could never have, could never experience. It was unfelt, but oh what a feeling it was to have this one thing! In all his time upon this earth, he never imagined receiving a kiss from another that was not his mother. To gain a hint of understanding why so many sought to press their lips to another's! It was unfelt, it was never upon his actual lips, but it might as well might be. Only in fairytales did he imagine what a kiss of true love was and is shared between two people that have felt it, and this was but a whisper of it. He held no romanic notions for this girl but she gave him something he could never imagine having in his wildest dreams. It was a breath, a whisper, and a bittersweetness on his tongue where the reminder of what he was came back to him.

He could never have that.

He was the monster in stories, a creature of horror, and there was no other like him to have for his own.

Still, she gave him a glimpse of what he could've had had his story been different. Of a boy giving a girl a flower, an innocent kiss, sweet laughter, grinning sunshine, and tender moments that could never be.

He looked at her, and knew she was never his. She does not belong in this nightmarish world of blood and darkness. Only the monster could ever make himself at home here. She was not a monster. She was a creature that lived in the sunlight, danced to songs about beauty and love, and knew what a happy ending was.

Monsters do not get happy endings.

The only thing he could ever have, was an unfelt kiss to remember, and a bittersweet 'what if' to daydream and weep over in private, away from the prying eyes of the world. The living bride bestowed a kiss unto the monsters and made the wretched creature cry. Solitude and loneliness were all the beast will ever know, but for just a few seconds shared between the bride and the monster, he felt human.

Silently, flinching away from a comforting, outstretched hand, he let go of the girl, and bid the dream farewell as he walked away. Leaving the girl to go to her downed brother and support him with one arm over her shoulders, run away from this place. Run away from the clawed branches of trees, the soil that drank up the blood of victims, and the monster that chained himself down to this place as its keeper and prisoner. She only looked back once, never catching sight of the deformed man again. So, turning back with some regret yet resolute acceptance, she left.


End file.
